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Battle Scars

Battle Scars

By Poppy P

A/N: As always, I’m grateful to Hallie for
the Brit pick and Zsenya for the beta. Credit to Z for the “chastity charm”. J

Disclaimer: I own nothing.

Bill crept into
the Burrow as quietly as possible, careful not to let the door slam. He and
Remus had just returned from trying to find Moody’s body, with no luck. Molly
had been adamant about Remus and Tonks spending the night, since it was very
late. Bill had insisted that Remus go on up to bed while he saw to the Thestrals
that they had used during the mission.

He slipped into the living room
and was surprised to see that it wasn’t empty. Fred was sprawled out on the
shabby sofa, fast asleep. George was slouching in the armchair, staring
broodingly into the fire.

“George,” said Bill softly.
“What are you two doing here?”

George startled slightly at the
sound of Bill’s voice. “Hey, Bill. I forgot you were still out there.”

George made an exasperated
noise. “Mum,” he said shortly. “She insisted on me staying over so she could
look over my wound in the morning. Fred said he’d stay as well. I think it’s
mostly because it’s his turn to cook breakfast tomorrow.”

Bill crouched down in front of
the armchair and took George’s face in his hands. He turned him so that the
light from the fire hit the side where George had lost his ear. “Mum did a
good job,” he said, appraisingly.

George shrugged. “I guess so,”
he said. “There wasn’t much she could do for it.”

Bill took a seat
in the other armchair. They were both quiet for a few minutes, listening to
Fred’s snores. “So what are you two doing down here? Why didn’t Mum set up
camp beds for you in my room?”

George flashed his
brother a grin. “She did, but we thought it’d be best to make ourselves scarce.
You know, in case you and Fleur wanted to do some pre-nuptial canoodling.” He
waggled his eyebrows suggestively. Bill felt his face grow warm.

“Are you mental?” asked
Bill. “I'm pretty certain that Mum's placed a chastity charm on Fleur's bed.
Besides, do you honestly think I could get away with that under Mum’s roof?”

“Brother, you’re
twenty-seven years old. Are you telling me that Mum still scares you?” asked
George.

“Join the club,”
Said George. “Shush,” he added, as Fred grunted in his sleep and turned over.
They watched Fred for a few seconds; until they were assured that he was still
asleep. “You know, he’s taking the ear thing pretty hard.”

“It’s not even his
ear!” protested Bill. “What’s he upset about?”

George smiled.
“He thinks it’s the end of his life as he knows it. We can’t fool Mum anymore.
And now he’ll have to juggle all of his women by himself.”

Bill grinned
broadly, though it caused the scars on his face to tighten. “Fred still likes
to live dangerously then?”

“You bet,” said
George. “He’s juggling three at the moment.” He rubbed the side of his head
thoughtfully. “Although as thick as they are, maybe they won’t even notice the
ear.”

“He’s lucky Mum
doesn’t know about him messing around like that. You know how she hammered the
‘respect for women’ thing into us,” said Bill.

“Mum?” said
George, “He’s lucky Ginny doesn’t know. She probably hex him into tomorrow.
Although, some of those witches…er…” he trailed off.

“Yeah,” said Bill
in an encouraging tone.

It was George’s
turn to blush now. “They’re pretty curious about the whole twin thing.” Bill
still looked confused. “You know,” explained George, “they want to go out with
both of us, at the same time, to find out if we’re really identical.
You know what I mean?”

Bill grimaced.
“That’s disturbing. It’s not exactly an image I like to associate with my
little brothers.” George shrugged in a ‘what can you do’ gesture. “Besides,”
Bill added, “you’re not.”

“We’re not what?”
asked George.

“You’re not
identical everywhere,” said Bill decisively.

“I’m almost afraid
to ask,” said George with trepidation.

“You have a crescent
shaped birthmark on your bum,” Bill said simply.

George looked
quite frightened now. “And you’d know this because…”

“Who do you think
changed your nappies when Mum was laid up from Ron?” asked Bill.

“Oh,” said George,
wrinkling his nose, “And here we envied you because you never had to wear
hand-me-downs. I forgot about you having to do nappies.” At that moment, Fred
rolled over again, knocking his blanket to the floor.

Bill got up and
stretched it over him again, smiling fondly. “I had to do a lot of this as
well. Fred always was a wild sleeper.”

George nodded distractedly,
running his hand over the side of his head again, as though willing his ear to
appear.

Bill noticed.
“So,” he said quietly, “you two bringing dates for my wedding?”

“Hmm?” said
George, turning back to Bill, “Oh dates? Nah, Fred thought it’d be better for
us to scope out our options.”

“Good plan,” said
Bill. “Fleur does have some fairly attractive cousins.”

George perked up.
“Veela cousins?”

Bill grinned and
nodded in confirmation.

Suddenly George’s
expression clouded again.

“George,” said
Bill gently, “what’s wrong?”

George rubbed the
side of his head. “I guess this isn’t exactly going to make me popular with
the witches, is it?” He shook his head, trying to pull himself out of it.
“It’s not a big deal, really. I’m alive, that’s what’s important. I mean,
look at Moody. And it’s not like it completely ruined my good looks…” He
looked up suddenly, aghast. “B-bill…I…I’m sorry, mate. I d-didn’t mean…”
George looked up at his brother, eyes wide.

“Forget about it,”
said Bill gruffly.

George shook his
head, stricken. “No, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have…”

“I said forget
about it,” insisted Bill. “Look, ever since Greyback, people keep giving me
that annoying, sympathetic look.” He glanced at George. “Oh yeah, I guess
you’ll be in for some as well now.” George managed a wry grin. “Only three
people have never given me that look; you, Fred and Fleur.” He swallowed,
having trouble putting his thoughts into words. “I can’t tell you how much
it’s meant to me, that you’ve treated me absolutely the same.”

“You are
the same,” said George firmly. “You’re still our big brother Bill. Nothing’s
changed. And Fleur,” he shook his head admiringly, “she’s mad about you.”

Bill tried to suppress
a smile, but failed. “Yes she is, and I’m mad about her.”

“But she was in
love with you before, you know…” George looked down at his feet, “before everything
happened. It won’t be the same for me.” He shook himself, rubbing his hands
over his face. “I don’t even know why we’re talking about this. Mad-Eye and
too much Firewhisky,” he mumbled.

“George,” said Bill placing a
comforting hand on his knee, “it’s okay for you to be sad.”

“Bloody hell,”
blurted Bill, “you’re supposed to be the creative one. I’m sure you can think
of something if this girl’s really worth it…”

“She is!” said
George vehemently. “You should see her Bill. She’s got these amazing, brown
eyes, and…and this hair…it’s just…” he broke off, unable to articulate any
further.

“Yes, hair is
generally attractive on a woman,” said Bill, amused.

“Git,” said George
with an awkward grin. “If I wanted the mickey taken out of me, I’d have told
Fred.”

Bill’s eyebrows
shot upwards. “You mean he doesn’t know?”

George suddenly
became very interested in the fingernails on his left hand. “I reckon he knows
that I fancy her. I mean, he’s always been there when I’ve seen her. But then
Fred thinks every girl’s a potential shag.”

Bill studied his
younger brother. “Am I to understand that you’ve got more than that in mind?”

“I want to go out
on a date with her and be able to talk about my brother the curse breaker,”
said George rapidly. “I want to tell her about my Mum who charms a mean
cheese.” He slapped the arm of his chair in agitation, sending a cloud of dust
into the air. “Hell, I’d like to tell her about the wizarding shop I’m
co-owner of.”

The only sound for
the next several seconds was that of Fred’s light snoring. Finally Bill said,
“George, things are hard enough right now, don’t you think? Perhaps you
shouldn’t pursue this until we see where this war is headed.”

“I’m not a
coward,” said George hotly, causing Fred to stir in his sleep again.

“I didn’t say you
were,” said Bill patiently. “But inducting a Muggle into our world at this
point is probably not the safest thing you can do for her.”

“So what am I
supposed to do?” asked George fiercely, “Not live until Voldemort’s defeated?”
Bill winced at the name. “That sounds like a load of dung coming from a man
who’s planning his wedding in the middle of a bloody war zone.”

Bill was hurt.
“That’s not fair. It’s different; Fleur’s a witch.”

“So you have some
kind of double standard?” asked George, his voice hoarse from trying to argue
in whispers.

“Don’t get shirty
with me,” said Bill, affecting his older brother tone. “I was raised by Arthur
Weasley as well, you know.”

“Sorry,” muttered
George.

“Go to bed,” said
Bill kindly. “Everything will look better in the morning.”

“You take that
back!” said Fred angrily, struggling to stand up from the saggy couch.

“Not on your ‘Cauldron
Full of Hot, Strong Love’,” sang George, ducking the cushion that Fred sent
flying at him.

Bill shook his
head, grinning. “I suppose at least one of you had to be a Warbeck fan. I
think Mum and Dad actually conceived you two to one of her songs. Which one
was it again? Ah yes, “When Two Wands Ignite.”

Fred and George
exchanged a look of revulsion. “That’s disgusting, Bill,” they said.

Bill merely
laughed and ducked as two cushions were sent his way now. The cushions hit a
lamp, causing it to topple over with a spectacular crash. They were so busy
laughing, that they didn’t hear the quick, angry steps on the stairs.

“Mum!” said George
stunned.

“What are you
doing up?” asked Fred trying to fix the lamp with his wand without Molly
noticing.

“It is two o’clock in the morning,” said Molly in a deadly tone. “Do you have any idea how much
noise you three are making?”

All three of her
sons shook their heads guiltily.

“I thought Death
Eaters had broken in, for Merlin’s sake!” she said, clutching her heart. “I’m
surprised at you, Bill. George is still recovering,” said Molly, her eyes
softening somewhat. “Don’t you think it would be a good idea for him to get
some rest?”

Bill nodded, the
twins looking sheepish. “Sorry, Mum,” said George contritely, kissing her on
the cheek. “We’ll go to bed now.”

Bill and Fred
followed close behind George, kissing their mother good-night as they passed
her on their way towards the stairs.

Fred had reached
the third step when he muttered, “Last one to the room gets the lumpy bed.” Immediately
there was a scuffling on the stairs as they tried to beat each other to Bill’s
room.

Molly tried to
keep the smile out of her voice as she called up the stairs, “Don’t make me go
up there!”

Half an hour
later, Bill’s thunderous snores filled the room. George lay in Bill’s bed
having beaten both of his brothers to the room. He wondered briefly if they
had gone easy on him because of his injury. No, thought George gratefully, as
he rubbed a sore spot on his ribs; Fred had cheated as usual.

“George,” called
Fred softly, over Bills snores, “are you awake?”

“Hmmm?”

“So, you really
like Iris?”

George’s sigh was
more sleepy than annoyed. “I think so.”

“I figured you
did,” said Fred, his voice tinged with something that sounded like
resignation. “Is it…are you…in love?” he asked, hesitant.

George was very
grateful for the darkness which covered the spectacular flush that crept up his
face. “Maybe,” he admitted.

“You think so?”
George could’ve kicked himself at the eagerness in his voice.

“Yes, I do,” said
Fred, and George could hear the sincerity in his tone. “Who knows why she
picked you instead of me. I guess there’s no accounting for taste.”

“Prat,” said
George fondly.

“When all of this
is over,” said Fred though a tremendous yawn, “I’ll help you win the girl.
Then, you can get married. I’ll be the best man, naturally. Next, you can
name me godfather to all of the sproglets who will all be named after me, of
course: Fred, Fredrika, Freddy, Fredrique, Fredrick, Fredette, Fredigard….”

George fell asleep
to Fred’s litany, dreaming of his future life filled with Iris, their many
red-headed children and their favourite Uncle Fred, spoiling them senseless.

THE END

//

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